


A Great Double Act

by Woaf



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hairbrushing, Romance, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9499937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woaf/pseuds/Woaf
Summary: In which Sherlock goes shopping and learns about romance.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [denisemp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/denisemp/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Forgive and Forget](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389783) by [denisemp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/denisemp/pseuds/denisemp). 



> All errors are mine. I have no title over the characters.
> 
> My first ever fanfic, which I'm totally blaming on denisemp. Whilst waiting more or less (mostly less) patiently for the next chapter of her wonderful "Forgive and Forget", I fluffed up this little vignette to amuse myself. I hope it may amuse some of you, too.
> 
> If you haven't already read "Forgive and Forget", it would make sense to do so before embarking on this. It would make sense anyway, because it's completely brilliant!

“Buy her a present, Sherlock. One for yourself too, perhaps,” said Mummy Holmes in answer to her son’s exasperated question about how he could do something REALLY romantic for Molly, rather than subjecting her to more of Mycrofts lerve stratagems.

“Yes, but what?”

Mummy Holmes looked up from the pastry she was rolling out, “a Mason Pearson,” she said, in a tone that suggested this should have been obvious from the beginning.

Sherlock looked puzzled for a millisecond, thinking his mother was suggesting he bought Molly some kind of power tool, then the synapses started firing. Mason Pearson. He’d come across that name while researching a case. The hairdresser with the morbid fear of redheads whose phobia had driven him to murder. He had cut the carotid artery with a specially adapted pair of scissors and then let the victim bleed out in the hairwashing sink. The Case of the Cruel Coiffeur? The Horrible Hairdresser? What was the title John had given it on the blog? John never liked any of Sherlock’s suggested titles. Too alliterative. “The Five Orange Snips”. Gah!

It had taken him only seconds to remember that a Mason Pearson was a hairbrush.

“Mother, are you sure?” Sherlock wanted a romantic idea. A REALLY romantic idea. How the gift of a hairbrush could possibly fall into that category was rather beyond him, but he was getting desperate.

“Yes, dear. It was actually your father’s suggestion.”

Daddy Holmes smiled up from his armchair by the fire. “Excellent gift, a Mason Pearson. First present I ever gave your mother.”

The look the Holmes parents gave one another told Sherlock that there could indeed be unsuspected romance in a hairbrush. The look was accompanied by smiles, and Sherlock, in mortal fear that any second now one of them would begin to talk and impart Too Much Information, said quickly, “Right! Mason Pearson. I’m going shopping.”

 

As he walked from Piccadilly back towards Baker Street, the hairbrush for Molly safely in his possession, Sherlock wondered why his mother had suggested that he buy another for himself. Ridiculous idea! Yes, his hair was a bit unruly, but Molly seemed to like it that way.

 

Molly opened the Fortnum & Mason gift wrap, (posh boy, she thought to herself) and looked pleased but slightly puzzled by the brush. If he had expected a rapturous reception, Sherlock was disappointed. "Thank you," was all she said.

“It was my mother’s suggestion,” he said rather lamely.

Molly didn’t say anything, but took off the elastic that held her customary ponytail in place, shook out her beautiful long hair, and began to brush it. The feeling was like no other hairbrush she had ever used. The way it travelled through her hair with just enough resistance to let her know that it was untangling all the knots and restoring perfection was positively sensual.

“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed, “Your Mum certainly knows her hairbrushes."

She held out the brush to Sherlock, “Will you brush it for me?”

He took the brush and Molly turned around. He loved her hair. Always had. And was always looking for, and failing to find, an excuse to touch it. Now she was asking him! He took the brush, slid his free hand underneath the long tresses down her back to lift them up and make the brush strokes smoother, and began to pull the famous Mason Pearson slowly downwards. Molly tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and sighed, “Oh, that’s heavenly!”

Only then did Sherlock remember that his mother had said that the present for Molly would also be a present for him. Now THAT was romantic.


End file.
